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Candy Zoccoli: Writer and Editor

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Lord of the Flies (or, Who’s Got the Conch?) has

Lord of the Flies (or, Who’s Got the Conch?) has been a long time coming. 18 years in fact, ever since Lizzie told Gordo to spend four hours making her book report more fun. His vehement reply: “Lord of the Flies is about shipwrecked children EATING EACH OTHER”. 2002 Candy was pretty bloodthirsty (see: Grade Four creative writing homework) and all I wanted to do was read about cannibal children. I held off, consuming slightly less brutal literary content (see: Wuthering Heights, Walden, The Devil Wears Prada) until I was ready. April 3rd, 2017. I stood in QBD, gave the book a quick sniff, purchased, and Insta-posted (see: photo, attached). Once home, I cracked it open and was so damned bored that I only picked it up again to donate it during the Great Purge of 2017 (see: photo of Crocs, also lost in the Purge, attached).
Three months ago, I purchased the audiobook for easier consumption. Redemption, finally! Unfortunately, while Martin Jarvis’s narration is superb, it wasn’t long before I felt like my students after one of my mentally enriching lectures on the TEEL structure. The guilt was immense. Why couldn’t I just hold on until the boys started eating each other? Where had I put my bloodlust?! I figured that, unless I’d missed a scene featuring a human-themed pot luck, there’d be more to come. I pushed on.
As of 30 minutes ago, I’ve done it. And despite my persistent zone-outs, there ARE some exciting moments in this book - one in particular evoking legitimate nausea.
In the end, I had to just directly search “when do they eat Simon” because I’d clearly missed it. And you know what? Good thing I did, because it turns out I’ve been looking forward to a LIE for eighteen years. THERE ISN’T ANY CANNIBALISM. There’s some old-fashioned animalistic murder. But the bodies, however mangled, remain uneaten. The only disturbing things happening near anyone’s mouths are just a three-line war chant, and arguments over who has the right to speak. Spoiler: Piggy, often having the conch, had the right to speak, but no-one ever respected this, and if only Golding had let him take a bite out of one of those horrid kids it would have made my time on the island worth it.

@primer_au and @booktopiabooks are holding a compe

@primer_au and @booktopiabooks are holding a competition for a book reviewer, so here’s my entry about one of my all-time favourite books:

April, 2018: I escaped, lovelorn, to the Italian countryside via literary proxy - the laughter-laced spring break that is Elizabeth von Arnim's The Enchanted April. With Arnim’s four heroines, each tired in their own way, I left behind dreary domesticity for "wistaria and sunshine." This book, in only a few sittings, became my firm favourite - not just for its subtle snark, but also its wonderfully transformative message: that sometimes it takes planting yourself somewhere new, to remember who you've always been. #PickMePRIMER

A couple of nights ago I finished Of Mice and Men,

A couple of nights ago I finished Of Mice and Men, my second reading in twelve years. It’s been sitting on my shelf for a little while, dusted off for the sake of a tutoring student. The first time I read it was in Year Ten English.
Ah, 2008 - a year defined by ballroom dancing with cleverly nicknamed boys, their temporary monikers conjured up across a term’s worth of lunchtimes and Maths classes. In English we were asked to take a break from focusing on boys, and forced to think instead about disillusioned men, an activity I had no interest in. The only time I cared was whenever someone mentioned old, one-handed Candy and his decrepit dog. As someone who is eternally unable to find personalised trinkets in two-dollar stores, this literary association was one I was simultaneously grateful for and horrified by.
I remember the amber sheets of paper the unit’s assessment tasks were printed on and getting too excited about talk of tarts and whorehouses in a Catholic school classroom.
To be blunt, I don’t really understand how any kid in their mid-teens would find this story particularly relatable. I think it’s the kind of book that gets recycled on school reading lists because it’s a classic, but I’m just not sure many students can really appreciate a story about flophouse-frequenting, world-wearied men. I certainly didn’t at the time. Obviously now, as a flophouse-frequenting, world-wearied man, I’m all about it. Look, sixteen-year-old Candy just wasn’t ready to learn about the theme of disillusionment. She was too busy fantasising about winning the Girlfriend x Neighbours Star Search as she twirled around her Y chromosome-infested school hall. “Thanks Ms McCallum, but no thanks. Take your 107-page anti-hope manifesto elsewhere. MY DREAMS ARE NOT FOR NAUGHT.” This time, when Lennie asked George to tell him about their dream, lo and behold, my heart started pushing against my ribcage. Spoiler alert: it broke. #steinbeck

Mum came home in 2004 with this, one in a series o

Mum came home in 2004 with this, one in a series of 1970s Dr Seuss specials put out on VHS to coincide with the release of the live-action film. I really enjoy showing domesticated animals their Hollywood counterparts so popped this on tonight via YouTube for Dante, who was so inspired he disappeared for two-thirds of the screening to get his hat fitted. No matter, I smiled enough through the whole thing for both of us. Twenty-five minutes of musical numbers co-penned by Seuss himself, including the demonstration of a home organisation system I still use to this day, and a melancholy jam that explores the woes of mass-unrequited love.
The climactic tune is Cat, Hat - quite possibly THE most effective language education I’ve received thus far. Let’s just say that if we’re ever at a party discussing how to say “cat in a hat” across the globe, only one of us will be able to hold our own in that conversation and it won’t be you.
I still get goosebumps when (spoiler alert) their mother comes home at the end, swearing she saw a “cat in a hat... going down the street with a moss-covered three-handled family gredunza”. Could you imagine? How many six-foot cats do you develop an attachment to in less than half an hour? It’s high time you got around to it you cranky goldfish. #drseuss #catinthehat #allansherman

Today I listened to the Sense and Sensibility soun

Today I listened to the Sense and Sensibility soundtrack. I’ll save my memories of the film itself (one of my all-time favourites) for when I no doubt watch it again, and unfortunately my classical music review skills are literally non-existent (I have no lingo to offer, NONE) but my GOD if there was ever a period film score that could convince me to put my hand up as a time-travel guinea pig, this would be it.
I bought this CD in a Salvos haul (I’m guessing around 2015), and I remember putting it on in my car before realising I was actually in the mood for a more contemporary commute jam. Not sure what that specific jam was, but it was probably Hannah Montana 2: Meet Miley Cyrus (review of that iconic album forthcoming, probs tomorrow, I’m already excited). It stayed untouched ever since, until forty-four minutes ago, because why listen to the CD when I could just rewatch the film?
Well, forty-four minutes later and I’m as gentrified as one can get on a Thursday afternoon. Off to drag my sister up a hill in the middle of a downpour and sprain my ankle, only to be rescued by a handsome conman who will read me poetry and bring me wildflowers before ghosting me without a second thought. #senseandsensibility #janeausten

Taylor Swift’s Lover - a more recent purchase (A

Taylor Swift’s Lover - a more recent purchase (August of last year), it’s the first CD I picked up tonight after deciding to organise my entertainment cabinet. I remember being so glad that it had the typical TSwizzle write-up and lyric booklet with actual lyrics. I also remember being excessively disappointed that SwizzleT no longer left hidden words in said lyrics for me to go all Nancy Drew on her private life. It’s okay, Tay, I soon happened across fan conspiracy theories about your secret love affairs that served as a welcome substitute. Taylor was my favourite female artist for a long time. That’s waned a bit (Delta Goodrem resurgence, aw yeah) but I’ll still listen to an entire album of hers with ease. Top three tracks: Cruel Summer, Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince, Lover. “May your struggles become inaudible background noise behind the loud, clear voices of those who love and appreciate you. Turn those voices up in the mix in your head” - Album Foreword #taylorswift #lover #miniblogger

This marks the ribbon-cutting for my Candy Consume

This marks the ribbon-cutting for my Candy Consumes Content experiment, a hopeful return to unbridled nostalgia and discovery. I will be going through all of the content that I consume, focusing largely on books, films, and music that I haven’t touched in a long time (some half-decade-old items are still in their packaging, sheesh), and offering memories and reflections on their significance. Here, have a sample of culinary content I consumed: this slice of mango cheesecake. It was the final event I attended before COVID swallowed us up. That day, it was important because it was as big as my head. How extravagant! How gluttonous! Would March ‘20 Candy ever be able to get through it?! (Nope.) Now, it’s important because of its link to the people I spent that day with, celebrating a birthday and finding it so damn easy to lose track of time enjoying each other’s company.

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